seem fazed by the experience at
all.
‘He wasn’t scared until you
screamed,’ laughed Bob, but I still didn’t think it was funny. We told the
old couple who ran the resort what had happened.
‘Just steer clear of the dock, honey,
and you won’t have to worry about leeches cos that’s the only place
you’ll find ’em.’
The following day, the next disaster hit. I
hadn’t slept well on the night of the leeches. I was still upset about what had
happened but I was also having difficulty breathing. Oh, no, I thought. Don’t tell
me I’m coming down with a cold. By morning my eyes had swollen shut and I could
hardly swallow. My palate was swollen too, almost completely blocking my air
passages.
Bob rushed up to the resort owner’s
house to find out what we should do. They told us to leave Wayne with them and get to
the hospital right away, and that was what we did.
We learned that many people coming from out
of the area had severe allergic reactions at that time of the year, something to do with
ragweed pollen in the vicinity. They also told us that it was a particularly bad year
for it.
The hospital staff shot me full of
antihistamine, which knocked me out for the next two days. We felt it safer to cut short
our holiday and headed home, disappointed that our attempt at togetherness had not
accomplished what we’d hoped it would.
I can’t deny that Bob and I enjoyed
some good times together, but we were drifting apart, and rapidly, to say nothing of the
disdain that I felt coming from his family. I also can’t deny that it must have
been difficult for him, dealing with all my emotional problems. I’m sure that at
times I was hard to live with. He had slapped me now and again, and I don’t
believe that was his nature but I couldfeel his frustration building
into anger. We were making each other miserable and something had to change. I decided
to tell his mother what was going on.
‘Can you please talk to him?’ I
begged, through sobs. ‘He’s been hitting me and I’m scared.’
‘Well,’ she spat back at me,
‘I’m sure you deserved it.’
I remembered then that Bob had told me his
father would hit his mother; I also remembered seeing her once with a black eye.
She’d told us she had walked into a door. How could I have been stupid enough to
think she might sympathize? I’d forgotten the old saying about blood being thicker
than water. I determined then to try harder to avoid arguments, to steer clear when Bob
was in a bad mood or had been drinking, to try anything and everything to protect myself
from further abuse. I also promised myself that I would try to be more of the kind of
wife he seemed to want, and that, I supposed, was obedient.
It had occurred to me that, in marrying so
young, I had given away my youth and all the activities that you normally experience in
your late teens and early twenties. For months now I had listened to Cindy, Brenda and
all my other English friends exchanging stories of the fun they’d had going to
dances on Saturday nights, travelling to London to see shows, holidays with friends at
Butlin’s holiday camps. I had done none of those things, except for a couple of
days out with Bob while we were courting. There seemed to be a huge chunk missing from
my life, a chunk that I hadn’t thought important in my haste to get married before
Bob went back to America. Perhaps that was what my parents had warned me about. Perhaps
this was what they were afraid would happen, that I wouldsuddenly
realize what I had missed. Of course, they had been right: all of the things they had
predicted might happen were happening, but what could I do except try to make things
work? Two things ran through my mind: I must not let my parents down, and they must not
think of me as a failure. I hoped my connections with other GI brides, Cindy Ballmaier
and my sister-in-law Brenda would help me to make up for lost time and my lost youth. I
thought that enjoying a new and different kind
all.
‘He wasn’t scared until you
screamed,’ laughed Bob, but I still didn’t think it was funny. We told the
old couple who ran the resort what had happened.
‘Just steer clear of the dock, honey,
and you won’t have to worry about leeches cos that’s the only place
you’ll find ’em.’
The following day, the next disaster hit. I
hadn’t slept well on the night of the leeches. I was still upset about what had
happened but I was also having difficulty breathing. Oh, no, I thought. Don’t tell
me I’m coming down with a cold. By morning my eyes had swollen shut and I could
hardly swallow. My palate was swollen too, almost completely blocking my air
passages.
Bob rushed up to the resort owner’s
house to find out what we should do. They told us to leave Wayne with them and get to
the hospital right away, and that was what we did.
We learned that many people coming from out
of the area had severe allergic reactions at that time of the year, something to do with
ragweed pollen in the vicinity. They also told us that it was a particularly bad year
for it.
The hospital staff shot me full of
antihistamine, which knocked me out for the next two days. We felt it safer to cut short
our holiday and headed home, disappointed that our attempt at togetherness had not
accomplished what we’d hoped it would.
I can’t deny that Bob and I enjoyed
some good times together, but we were drifting apart, and rapidly, to say nothing of the
disdain that I felt coming from his family. I also can’t deny that it must have
been difficult for him, dealing with all my emotional problems. I’m sure that at
times I was hard to live with. He had slapped me now and again, and I don’t
believe that was his nature but I couldfeel his frustration building
into anger. We were making each other miserable and something had to change. I decided
to tell his mother what was going on.
‘Can you please talk to him?’ I
begged, through sobs. ‘He’s been hitting me and I’m scared.’
‘Well,’ she spat back at me,
‘I’m sure you deserved it.’
I remembered then that Bob had told me his
father would hit his mother; I also remembered seeing her once with a black eye.
She’d told us she had walked into a door. How could I have been stupid enough to
think she might sympathize? I’d forgotten the old saying about blood being thicker
than water. I determined then to try harder to avoid arguments, to steer clear when Bob
was in a bad mood or had been drinking, to try anything and everything to protect myself
from further abuse. I also promised myself that I would try to be more of the kind of
wife he seemed to want, and that, I supposed, was obedient.
It had occurred to me that, in marrying so
young, I had given away my youth and all the activities that you normally experience in
your late teens and early twenties. For months now I had listened to Cindy, Brenda and
all my other English friends exchanging stories of the fun they’d had going to
dances on Saturday nights, travelling to London to see shows, holidays with friends at
Butlin’s holiday camps. I had done none of those things, except for a couple of
days out with Bob while we were courting. There seemed to be a huge chunk missing from
my life, a chunk that I hadn’t thought important in my haste to get married before
Bob went back to America. Perhaps that was what my parents had warned me about. Perhaps
this was what they were afraid would happen, that I wouldsuddenly
realize what I had missed. Of course, they had been right: all of the things they had
predicted might happen were happening, but what could I do except try to make things
work? Two things ran through my mind: I must not let my parents down, and they must not
think of me as a failure. I hoped my connections with other GI brides, Cindy Ballmaier
and my sister-in-law Brenda would help me to make up for lost time and my lost youth. I
thought that enjoying a new and different kind
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